How Fair Art Thou, My Bonnie Lass
by Carlisle Cooperative
Summary: The Doctor makes a bit of an error in judgment and has to make it up to Rose. Fluff, snogging, and a splash of history ensue.
1. Chapter 1

Rose Tyler, companion to the last Time Lord in the universe, glared across the console at the man—alien—in front of her. The aforementioned alien looked back at her, eyes wide. The green glow of the console did little to help his attempt to look innocent.

"I didn't mean it?" He tried. Rose continued to glare.

"You." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You. Bet _my_ mother. _My mum_!!! In a poker game. You ran out of chips, and you used my mum to up the ante."

"I didn't want to chance losing anything of value!" The words were out of his mouth before he could think, and did little to soothe the angry blonde across from him. As he watched Rose's reaction to what he said, he began to think about the fastest route out of the console room and back into the bowels of the TARDIS. It had been a while since he had been to the art gallery…that painting his third incarnation had done of the Citadel, with the orange skies and white marble arches…surely that needed cleaning? _Detailed_ cleaning?

Unfortunately, the Doctor lingered too long thinking of an exit strategy; he looked up intending to make for the door out of the console room, and found Rose standing directly in front of him. He was about to get slapped. He flinched as he watched Rose take a breath to speak.

"That. Is not. Funny."

"No, no! Not at all. No, don't know what I was thinking! Of course your Mum is valuable. She…she…." He floundered as he tried to think of something to say to appease Rose. "She's…well, she's a brilliant slapper! No! I meant brilliant at slapping! Could write the book on that, she could! And she keeps the fire brigade in business, what with her cooking." This wasn't going well. Rose was positively glowering, and he was about to be killed. By a companion. Deliberately. He took a deep breath and continued. "And….she….well, she's your mum? No Rose without Jackie and all that? Don't know what I was thinking. Sorry?" He squeaked out the last, bracing himself for the punishment Rose was sure to dole out.

Instead of the beating he was expecting, all he got from Rose was an exasperatedly huffed, "Men!" before she turned and walked out of the room.

The Doctor blinked, surprised to find he hadn't regenerated, and somewhat confused by his companion's reaction. He remained braced against the console, thinking, before smacking himself on the forehead. He was in the doghouse—again—and was going to have to make it up to Rose. Again. Spectacularly.

He grinned. Not that that was a bad thing. He had a few ideas about how it could be done. A visit to India during its golden age (although missing the monsoon season might be a bit tricky) was always fun, and not a little romantic. Rose had always enjoyed being taken to see planets being born, and he'd discovered that she found it to be a turn-on, so that was a thought. Then again, it had been a while since he went to Villengaard; he could visit his banana grove and stock up on the tasty fruit in addition to taking Rose to visit one of the best spas the universe had on offer. She'd snogged him senseless last time they'd gone to Villengaard. There was always topless sunbathing on Helios; they'd not been to a resort planet since before Cousin Mo's wedding. He hummed happily; their relationship had become more intimate after the wedding, and the thought of being able to openly enjoy Rose sunbathing, nude, made him grow suddenly warm and think of all of the things they could do after she had forgiven him. 'Kiss and make up' didn't begin to describe it.

Upon reflection, all of those options were more for his libido's benefit than Rose's, which might tend to undo the whole 'I'm sorry, let's do something for you' feeling he was going for.

When in doubt, go for the old standby—a cosy bath. He pushed off from the console and headed back to draw Rose a steamy bubble bath. That would buy him some time to come up with a brilliant plan to prove he was sorry. Even if he kind of, sort of, really wasn't. The Howierts/sioyud wouldn't have survived five minutes with an angry Jackie, had they won. Not that they would have-- he'd had a royal flush.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

A half-hour later, he dried his hands on a plush terry hand towel and surveyed his handiwork. The bath was one of their favourites on the TARDIS; opulent, in an American-Southwest resort sort of way, the enormous tub surrounded by teak, and warm colours on the walls. He hurried down the corridors of his lovely ship, pausing to take a deep breath as he arrived at his destination. Raising a hand, he tentatively knocked on the door to Rose's (rarely-used, now) room. "Rose? I drew up a lovely bath for you…."

Her head poked around the bathroom door. She still looked angry. "A bath?" she repeated, a tad shrilly. "A bath? You think a bath is going to fix this?"

"It's…not?" he guessed.

Her eyes narrowed. "Were you joining me in this bath?"

He opened and closed his mouth. "Welllllll." He scratched the back of his head. "I wouldn't say no if you asked."

"That's not you apologizing! That's you being…opportunistic!"

"You…have a point," he conceded.

"Hmph," she said, and flounced into her room, closing the door. After about five minutes, she got bored. She peeked her head back around the door. The hallway was deserted. Chewing on her lower lip, she considered her options, and then decided there was no reason not to take advantage of the bath he'd drawn. She crept down to the bathroom, tested the water. Perfect temperature, as the water always was on the TARDIS. Just the right amount of frothy bubbles. The bubbles were courtesy of a concoction the Doctor had picked up on a planet whose name she could no longer remember; they shifted colour according to the mood of the person in the bath. At the moment, they were translucent. She dipped her hand into the water, and they drifted toward blue. Yes, she was a bit melancholy. She didn't like to argue with the Doctor, even when he deserved it. She sighed and left the bathroom.

She found him in the control room, frowning down at the screen and hitting buttons.

Hearing her enter, he looked up at her almost warily. "Hello," he ventured, cautiously.

She had to chuckle as she walked over to him and picked up his hand, intertwining their fingers. Strangely, for them it was their most intimate gesture. Nothing she could do could spell forgiveness more clearly. But, just in case, she said it. "I forgive you."

He lifted his eyebrows hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Care for a bath?" She didn't wait for an answer, turning and tugging him out of the control room.

"I've got a surprise for you," he said, brightly. "To cheer you up."

She cast him a glance. "I didn't need to be cheered up. I needed you to apologize appropriately."

"Right, right," he agreed, hastily, falling silent.

"What's the surprise?" she asked, after a moment.

"It's a surprise," he answered.

"A good surprise? Or a surprise like, 'Surprise! You just ate something poisonous!'"

"I've never let you eat something poisonous." She glanced at him again. "I've never let you _swallow_ anything poisonous," he corrected himself.

"Let's just get into the tub," she said, kicking off her multi-coloured trainers, souvenirs from their visit to the planet-wide flea market dedicated solely to the styles of 1980's earth.

"About betting your mum..." he said, shrugging out of his coat, pulling his tie over his head.

"Doctor," she warned him.

"No, the thing is, Rose," he continued, eagerly, "I only bet her because I knew I wouldn't lose. I had a royal flush."

"This is one of those times," she told him, "where you need to stop talking."

Easy enough advice to hand out but--in the Doctor's case, as Rose was by now very well aware--extraordinarily difficult advice to actually follow.

They both stepped in to the bath, the bubbles changing colour and popping as the two bathers displaced the warm water. They shifted around, finally settling across from each other at each end of the long tub. Rose leaned back against the cool porcelain, letting the scent and heat of the bath calm her. She remained that way, eyes closed and legs rubbing up against the Doctor's, for a long time as he began to regale her with yet more tales of his (mis)adventures. This was a favourite pastime of hers: letting the Doctor's voice soothe her as the stories he spun beggared belief. He was especially enthusiastic with the story he was currently telling. She opened her eyes and focused on him.

"And _then_," he said, and paused for dramatic effect. It was very good, he thought, and added suspense to the story. "Guesswhat we found?"

The previously glorious concoction of frothy bubbles had by then diminished to a small, flimsy layer on the bath water, and Rose flicked at them with the hand that wasn't idly fiddling with her hoop earring. "I dunno, what?"

"_Guess_," he insisted.

"Uhmm…Martians." She wasn't feeling particularly creative, and decided instead that they both needed to reconsider their definitions of "opportunistic".

"Mummies!" He bounced up and down a few times, which in turn caused waves of perfect-temperature bathwater to slosh over the sides of the tub and onto the pristine wood floor. "Mummies, Rose! From Egypt! Well, not mummies exactly, they were actually robots being controlled by a very nasty fellow, wanted to blow up the Earth and destroy the entire human race - "

Rose decided that this must be something of an epidemic among most alien races.

"And _then_ - " and by now his hair was sticking up wildly in all directions and he was beginning to look ever-so-slightly manic, "and _then_, guess what I did."

Rose answered with the first bit of learned Doctor-speak that sprang to mind. "You…

reversed the polarity of the neutron flow?

"I deactivated a generator loop to get through the energy barrier, and used the isomorphic controls from the TARDIS to shift the mouth of the space-time tunnel into the future, which caused a thermal imbalance!"

"You're kidding," Rose said, doing her utmost to look exceedingly impressed.

He looked suddenly contemplative in return. "I wonder what happened to all those jelly babies. I was very fond of jelly babies, back then. Must still have some around here somewhere, mind you, they might not be all that good by now. Can jelly babies go stale?"

The Doctor's voice was quite possibly one of her favourite sounds in the world – no, the universe, rather – and while usually she could be content listening to him tell of exciting adventures in far-off places, Rose decided to head off what looked to be an hour-long soliloquy on the chemical composition of jelly babies.

She cleared her throat. "Doctor."

"Hmmm?" He glanced up, obviously immersed in philosophic thought about colourful soft confectionery.

"We're in the bath."

"Yes," he agreed compliantly.

She leaned forward across the wide expanse of the bathtub. "What I was saying before about this being one of those times when you need to stop talking?"

He watched her lips as she spoke and decided she might have very well been correct.

"I think - " Rose continued, and did not get any further with the thought as the TARDIS was rocked from top to bottom with a tremendous grinding shudder that sent the both of them sprawling ungracefully out of tub and onto the floor along with the entirety of the bathwater.

Rose found she was shouting. "What was _that_?"

But the Doctor was already on his feet and on the way to the console room at a speed that would put most Olympic sprinters to shame. She scrambled to her feet, pausing to gather her clothes from the now-damp floor, and darted after him.

Having taken a moment to get dressed before continuing after the Doctor, Rose arrived in the console room a minute or so after the naked and wet Time Lord. He was peering at one of the monitors with a look of puzzlement. Rose found herself momentarily distracted by the effect of the console room lights on his still-damp body; he looked utterly captivating, wet hair tousled and glistening with drops of water, his fair skin shining with the evaporating water and lingering effects of the bubbles. He felt her eyes on him and looked up at her, and she felt her knees go weak at the slow, seductive grin he shot in her direction.

They had been sleeping together, both literally and figuratively, for a month now; many of the nights had been filled with the soft noises and exclamations of their lovemaking before Rose fell asleep for the 'night' snuggled against the Doctor. The Doctor would doze for about an hour, lulled to sleep by Rose's warmth and regular breathing. Having caught up on his rest, he'd gently extricate himself from her arms to go tinker—but he always returned just as she was waking. They knew each other intimately, had seen all of the other; and yet their relationship was still new enough that Rose felt shy to have been caught admiring his naked form so openly. "Not a life-threatening crisis, then?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably under his steady gaze.

"_Not _a life-threatening crisis. Just a rather dramatic landing at our destination." He walked over to her, his eyes remaining locked on hers. "The bath will have to wait. If we don't get outside in, oh…." he considered briefly, "ten minutes, they're going to be banging the door down. I'll make it up to you?" His gaze flared briefly with heat at the promise of his words, causing Rose to swallow before nodding her head. "Good. Now go get changed—something warm. What you're wearing will never do. The TARDIS should have something out, I think." Rose blinked, on the verge of asking where they were, but he was already off down the hall. His voice floated back to her. "Ten minutes, Rose. I mean it!"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Eleven minutes later, Rose dashed into the console room. She'd found a long wool skirt on her bed, complete with white blouse; the TARDIS had also provided her a pair of gillies that were surprisingly comfortable and warm. She had changed, having just enough time to pull her hair back before grabbing the black cloak the TARDIS had also provided and running back to meet the Doctor.

He was leaning against the rail on the ramp to the door and looked vaguely impatient, but what stopped Rose and rendered her speechless (again—and damn the man for his ability to do that so often!) was his own attire. Gone were the brown pinstripe suit, shirt, and tie; in their place were a light blue woollen jacket, khaki-coloured kilt, and chocolate brown socks under matching brown Chuck Taylors. The Doctor appeared to have gone native, and that exceedingly unusual occurrence more than the outfit itself was what rendered her incapable of speech. Rose looked down at her outfit, then back at the Doctor—surely they weren't back in Scotland? She hoped it was before their encounter with Queen Victoria. She slowly walked over to the Doctor, noting the smile that was threatening to break out across his face. "Er, clothing?"

His face broke into a grin. "You'll see." And with that enigmatic statement, he grabbed his long coat, walked down the ramp and opened the TARDIS door.

The first thing Rose noticed was the wind—it was quite fresh, and she shot a quick mental note of thanks to the TARDIS for outfitting her so warmly. The skirt whipping around her ankles in the strong draught, she stepped out into an overcast day; her eyes adjusted quickly, and she was able to take in the rolling green hills surrounding them. Unlike their last visit to Scotland, there were no armed guards ready to greet them; there were instead two men, dressed quite similarly to the Doctor. With the wind gusting violently, Rose wondered how the men kept their kilts down….and what she'd see under the Doctor's if his got caught in the wind.

The Doctor seemed to have caught the drift of her thoughts, and unleashed another of his slow grins in her direction before striding over to the two men awaiting them. "Well met, my lords!" Rose's musings on whether the Doctor was wearing pants evaporated under the sound of him once again using a Scottish accent. As much as she loved his normal speaking voice, something about the sound of him speaking so melodically turned her insides to jelly. She let the lilting sound of the Doctor's conversation with the two gentlemen serve as an accompaniment to the vista in front of her. It seemed the Doctor was not unknown here, and that they were a short walk from the main village. His conversation complete, the Doctor turned to Rose and reached out his hand; she happily accepted, and they began to walk, following the two men who had been identified as village elders.

"Welcome to Scotland. The planet, not the country. Kind of like Barcelona—the planet, not the city—only they don't have dogs at all here and, of course, the planet is named for a country and not a city." Rose grinned at the Doctor's typically rambling introduction. "Settled by the Scots in the thirty-third century. They'd been looking for a new place to live-- the Republic of Scotland having become far too crowded with every mountain and moor covered with condos--and they found this planet. It reminded them of home, or what they had read about home before it had been completely paved over, and so they settled on it."

"A planet settled by Scots, in the image of Scotland?" Rose was having a hard time believing it.

"Why not? The Scots did the same thing when they sailed around your world and settled in New Zealand. Did you know there's a Dunedin on the South Island? Founded by the Free Church of Scotland in 1848, that; they were trying to set up an 'ideal community.' What was it about that era on earth that led to such optimism?" The Doctor lost himself in thought briefly, before returning to his role of universal tour guide. "Well, the gold rush did away with the idealism soon enough—money usually does. Beautiful town, Dunedin—the New Zealand one, although the original isn't half bad—good university, great beer, a Cadbury's! Nice train station, too; pretty little gardens. And did I mention the statue of Robbie Burns? I love Robbie Burns! Knew his stuff, did Robbie. Needed a bit of a bath, though." The Doctor wrinkled his nose.

Rose smiled happily, swinging their joined hands as she asked, "So this is kind of like a…a cosmic New Zealand?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Kind of. They learned their lesson from the Treaty of Waitangi and ensured the locals didn't object to their settling a small piece of land here on the planet. The two societies lived in harmony, eventually merging into one. You'll note that the Scottish side of things is rather dominant."

They continued along the path, clasped hands swinging between them.

"This is nice," she said. "It's almost like a proper holiday. So when do we start running for our lives?"

He grinned at her, then affected wounded pride. "Oi! No running for our lives. It _is_ a proper holiday," he insisted. "It's your surprise."

She shook her head, laughing. "I don't believe you. No rest for Rose and the Doctor. The universe needs us."

"Why is it 'Rose and the Doctor'? Shouldn't it be 'the Doctor and Rose'?"

"Possibly," she conceded, gracing him with that incandescent smile she had, that tongue poking teasingly out at him. "Age before beauty."

He smiled, stopped walking; pulled her close against him, facing her out, her back tucked against his front. She opened his coat, huddled herself into it, snuggled against the wind and into the heat of him. It was sunset. A few unmistakably red rays were just managing to penetrate the overcast sky, fading into dark blue twilight. She looked out over the gentle roll of the hills and smiled at the silhouette against the sky. She tipped her head to see what she could of his face.

"Is that a telescope?" she asked. "An enormous telescope?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"Or does it magnify moonlight and kill werewolves?"

She could just see the quirk of his smile. "Lupine wavelength hæmovariforms?"

She smiled back, settling comfortably to look back out at the telescope. "Ah. Right. Sorry."

"Later," he breathed, into her ear, then paused to nibble at its lobe. "When it's properly dark." His voice had adopted its Scottish accent again. It purred into her skin as he nuzzled behind her ear. His hands dipped under the protective coverings of his coat and her cloak, impatiently found their way under her blouse, skimmed over her ribcage. And, just to torture her, he bit gently on her neck.

Rose's breath caught. She may have made a little noise. Possibly a whimper. She closed her eyes, to the telescope and the scenery of this foreign planet, because it was all so lovely and enchanting and nothing at all when she would prefer to just be wrapped completely in him. He could be daft and thick and bet her mum at a game of intergalactic poker. And she thought she could never, ever let him know how much she loved his being daft and thick and betting her mum at a game of intergalactic poker because it was part of the package that was magnificent and funny and brilliant and actually _loved her_. "What will you do?" she murmured, to keep him talking in that perfect voice. "When it's properly dark?"

"Well, then… my timorous beastie…" He planted kisses against the line of her jaw. She tipped her head back to give him access, but, to her disappointment, he stopped, both with the nibbling and nuzzling and the Scottish. "Then I'm going to take you to the telescope and show you every planet where we've been. And that'll be almost like a proper date, Rose Tyler. To go with your proper holiday. What do you think?"

She turned in his arms to face him. "I—" She didn't say it. They never said it. Some sort of tacit agreement. So she didn't say it now. She absently smoothed his wind-ruffled hair.

"The universe," he told her, in a low voice, "doesn't need Time Lords on the day when the Dgegf Froghs reaches its vernal equinox. It only happens once every 1,312.2 years, but it is the rule, and today's the day."

"Today's the day when the universe doesn't need you?" she repeated, sceptically.

"Yes."

"The universe can just decide to behave for a day? Why doesn't it do that the rest of the time, too?"

He grinned. "Oh, Rose, where would be the fun in that?"

"But how can that be? It doesn't make sense. How does it work? How--?"

"I don't make the rules," he exclaimed. "I only follow them." She snorted derisively. He chose to ignore her. "And it _is_ the rule. It was the Eighteenth Amendment of the Gallifreyan Constitution. Welllllll, we didn't call it a constitution, and it didn't have amendments, but that's the idea. Don't know if the universe will follow it, now that the Eighteenth Amendment doesn't exist anymore." For a moment, he frowned, then it passed. "So. If we're very, very, very, very lucky, no running for our lives tonight, Rose Tyler. Only this kind of running." And, grinning, he grabbed her hand, whirling away from her, and pulled her, laughing, in his wake, as he dashed towards the two gentlemen waiting for them.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"This place is….extraordinary." Rose breathed, looking at the room around them before starting to open cupboard doors and drawers. They'd been escorted to the Manor house--really a castle (complete with moat) located in the centre of the town-sized village. They'd walked through winding streets lined with thatch-roofed wattle-and-daub buildings as dusk settled over the village, and the sounds of families settling in for the night had greeted their ears. Upon reaching the imposing castle—the crenulated turrets looking like teeth against the increasing darkness—they had been escorted into a warm, wood-panelled foyer lit completely by torches and candles. After divesting themselves of their outerwear and receiving a formal greeting from the Lord of the Manor, they had been escorted to the palatial visitor's quarters. Having been told that a cold picnic supper awaited them, they had been left alone by the butler to 'freshen up.'

Rose was wishing they went to planets where the Doctor was liked more often.

The Doctor flopped onto the large four-poster bed, scooting into the centre of it as Rose continued to explore. "I did tell you they settled this planet because of how it looked like Scotland." He paused before amending his statement. "Welllllll, what they thought Scotland looked like." The Doctor paused again, this time distracted by the view of Rose's bum as she explored something on the other side of the room. "Right. So they've come here, they've found land, land, and more land and—far more important--locals willing to let them settle. Next thing to do is make it look like the old country. Out come the holohistory viewers, up go the buildings—exact replicas of the pictures they see. Only the pictures were paintings and engravings from…oh, the time of James I, I should think?" His voice became a study in nonchalance. "No idea how they wound up with those."

"Ah." Rose absentmindedly replied as she finished exploring the far corner of the room. She turned to face him. "That would explain the Merrye Olde England feel of town, then."

"Quite. They're still technologically advanced—after all, they got here, didn't they?—just a bit quaint. Not the twee side of quaint—twee should be universally outlawed—but charming." He thought about the word. "Definitely the charming side, I think." He settled back into the soft bed, watching Rose resume her exploration of the room. His eyes were just drifting shut when he heard a door open, solid wood thunking against a stone wall before Rose let out a loud exclamation. Startled, he was up and across the room in an instant. He found her standing stock still in a doorway, absolutely entranced by whatever lay across the threshold. Curious, he walked up behind her and laid his chin on her shoulder to take in whatever she was seeing.

Feeling the pressure against her collar bone, Rose turned to him. "S' beautiful."

The room which had so completely captured Rose's attention was large beyond reason—surely there was no way for it to fit in the castle? Graceful arches on all sides drew the eye upwards to the tall dome capping the room. Delicately arched windows ringed the dome; the room would be flooded with sunlight during the day, but was currently lit only by a multi-tiered chandelier hanging in the arched alcove directly in front of her. The walls and ceiling were awash with colour, pastoral scenes unfolding above solidly shaded wainscoting at various levels.

The Doctor took all of this in with a quick sweep of his eyes. Planting a quick peck on Rose's cheek, he lithely slid by her and into the room. "Ah, they did incorporate some of the local work!" He looked around him, head tilting back as he took in the dome above him before rotating forward as he followed the line of the walls back to the doorway and a still awestruck Rose. "Thonkian design and build, I should think—Thonk being the original name of the planet. Lovely example of the form. It's interesting how many of these elements can be found across the universe, developed independent of any outside influence. Take, for instance, the arches…" The Doctor turned to point to an arch, gearing up for a no doubt thorough lecture on interplanetary architecture. Deciding diversionary tactics were in order, Rose stepped forward and gave the Doctor a lingering kiss; surprised, the Doctor blinked at her dazedly.

"And this room would be?" Rose asked, taking advantage of the Doctor's momentary silence.

"The loo."

Rose looked at him, disbelieving. . Surely he was having her on? "The loo."

The Doctor nodded. "The loo." He pointed to the arch on his left. "Toilet back there," he turned to the arch on his right, "bath back there." He then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Should be a vanity back there, under the light." Rose still looked unconvinced. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he pivoted and walked back to the alcove containing the chandelier, tinkering briefly before a mirror and wash basin appeared. "Thonkians felt that a daily bath was the best way to commune with their deity, and made an art form out of not only their actual toilette, but also the spaces in which they were performed." He walked back towards Rose, taking her hand and leading her out of the palatial en suite. "Not so much now, sadly, but the traditional architecture survives and is, apparently, still used."

Having crossed the room, Rose still in tow, the Doctor reached out and gave a short jerk to the velvet bell pull next to the bed. "We'll get an excellent chance to explore the bath later, Rose. In the meantime…hungry?"


	2. Chapter 2

The dinner had been lovely, cold meats and cheese with fresh bread, washed down with the local beer. The night was clear and dark, the only light for their picnic coming from strategically placed torches lining the edges of the huge blanket. The telescope was a short walk away, but they still had some time yet to go before the planets the Doctor wanted to show her rotated into view. Rose snuggled against the Doctor, wriggling her body against his as she found a comfortable position. Her head now resting in the hollow of his left shoulder, she began to feel completely relaxed. She could easily fall asleep this way.

The Doctor brought his left arm around Rose, enjoying the feel of her warm body along his. Her cloak had pooled under her, leaving only her blouse between his left hand and her naked torso; even less than that where the white cotton had come untucked and ridden up her back. He idly stroked his thumb along her bare skin, thinking what it would be like to make love to her here, with only the stars and trees as witnesses. Deciding he'd like to find out, he reached his right arm across his body, using his left arm to prop himself up partially. His right hand gently ran across her cheek before cupping her jaw. Looking down, he felt his breath catch as she looked up at him, eyes dark and flickering in the torchlight. She was lovely, and he felt his hearts constrict as he realized he...

The thought froze, half-formed. Something had skittered across the edge of his vision. Something that didn't belong here. It was the vernal equinox of the Dgegf Froghs; there should be no danger.

Rose felt his mood shift. "Everything allright, Doctor?" 

"I think so." He removed his arm from under Rose's back and sat up fully, all senses on alert trying to identify the location of the possible threat. His ran his eyes around the perimeter of the torch lit area, his keen eyesight seeking out what he thought he had seen. Nothing moved.

He was just about to relax when he saw it. Jumping up, he let out a yelp that startled Rose. She looked at the Doctor, his face pale and eyes showing terror. Oh heavens; if the Doctor was terrified, they were in trouble. Deep trouble. She stood quickly and instinctively sought protection behind him, leaning up on her tiptoes to ask, "What is it? I thought we were safe tonight!"

The Doctor appeared not to have heard her, focusing all of his attention on the menace lurking in the dark. Rose felt her stomach lurch with fear, her heartbeat galloping along at an increasing pace as the tension grew. The Doctor slowly slid a hand inside his blue woollen jacket, reflexively searching for his sonic screwdriver. Realising he'd left it back in the castle, he let out a soft "Bollocks!" before taking a deep breath. Rose watched him square his shoulders, seeming to steel himself for whatever fanged, bloodthirsty horror lurked in the darkness. "Ok, Rose? Stay calm, I can handle this. And whatever happens, don't move and don't panic." Rose wanted to argue with his instructions, but the Doctor was already moving stealthily towards the edge of the blanket. Slowly…..slowly……he crept towards the menace lurking out of sight. The silence was thick with tension until, suddenly, the Doctor yelped again and jumped, clearly startled.

"Where'd it go? Where'd it go?!" his voice, agitated, rose in pitch with each word, ending in a register similar to Jackie in full battle mode.

Rose looked around, growing confused. "Where'd what go?" The Doctor continued to look around, his gaze growing panicked, eyes wide, before he found whatever it was that had scared him so. His eyes locked on the threat, his body becoming still and rigid. Rose followed his laserlike gaze, seeing nothing at all before a small movement in the grass caught her eye. The Doctor had seen it move, too, and flinched in response. She blinked, making sure that he was reacting to what she had seen. A quick glance at the grass, then back to the Doctor, practically white-eyed with fear, confirmed it. She started to laugh, causing the Doctor to grow even more agitated. "Rose! Shh! Don't startle it or it'll charge!"

Rose laughed uncontrollably, sides aching. The fanged, bloodthirsty monster was nothing more than a mouse.

"What are you doing?" hissed the Doctor. "Shhh!"

"Doctor, it's a _mouse_," Rose pointed out, gesturing at it. She stepped out from behind his protection to see the little creature better. It was crouching in the grass, looking at them, trembling.

"Yes! Exactly! A mouse! Bloody vernal equinox of the Dgegf Froghs. It lulled me into…being lulled."

"It's probably more scared of us than you are of it," she pointed out, reasonably.

"Would you come back over here?" the Doctor asked, with stiff politeness. "And stand behind me?"

"What?" She looked at him in open amusement. "To get away from the mouse? What's the mouse going to do to us, Doctor?"

"It might eat our food. And it might scurry around and…touch us."

"Touch us?"

The Doctor shivered with exquisite horror at the thought.

"Look at you! You're never scared of anything! Last of the Time Lords! And you're scared of an ickle mouse. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Rose's eyes were twinkling with laughter, catching and reflecting moonlight and starlight. The Doctor had thought her beautiful not ten minutes before. He was now thinking nothing of the sort. He frowned. "If that mouse touches you, Rose Tyler, then I don't."

"Oh, no?"

"No. Not until you wash the…mouse grossness off you."

"Mouse grossness? 'S that a technical term?" Rose looked across at him. He was watching the mouse tensely, as if the little thing were a most serious enemy that he must face down, must try to outmanoeuvre. Rose leaped suddenly, jumping toward him across the blanket, shouting "Boo!" as she did so. The Doctor, already tense and on edge, jumped a mile as he turned to her, reaching for a sonic screwdriver that wasn't there.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, in exasperation, as she dissolved into laughter on the blanket. "That wasn't funny!"

"That was _hilarious_," Rose countered, gasping for breath.

"Look at you! My assistant!"

"I'm not your assistant," she protested.

"No, you're definitely not assisting me. You're my…laugher-at me. My mocker. My—The time!" He looked up at the sky suddenly, then back at Rose. "Think you can pull yourself together?" he asked, sternly. "The stars are aligned."

Rose wiped at the tears in her eyes as she stood up, picking up her cloak and wrapping it around her. "Can we leave the blanket? With the mouse right here?" she asked, then collapsed weakly against his chest, her face in his shoulder, as she laughed merrily.

He shook his head in disapproval at her inability to grasp the gravity of the mouse situation, even as he lifted his arms up to catch her and hold her against him. "Do you know what I was thinking, right before the mouse showed up and then you started being mean to me?"

"What were you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him now, eyes still gleaming with laughter.

"It was a very nice thought. Maybe, if you're very nice to me, I'll share it with you someday. Come on." He stepped away from her, took her hand to lead her away.

"Doctor—" she protested.

"Shh." He kept one eye warily on his nemesis the mouse, as they skirted at least a few metres away from it on their way to the telescope.

Shaking her head at his overreaction, she fell into step next to him, hand curled comfortably into his. "So why do you hate mice so much?"

"Ever wonder why the plural of 'mouse' is 'mice?' The plural of 'house' isn't 'hice.'"

"But the plural of 'louse' is 'lice,'" she pointed out.

"True," he mused. "Fascinating thing, this language of yours."

"Oh, yes. So why do you hate mice so much?"

"The better question is why _don't_ you hate mice so much? They're dirty, filthy little scavengers, they're just impossible to catch, they eat through everything, and let me tell you something, Rose, in all of space and time, no one has ever succeeded in making a better mouse trap."

Rose glanced over at him, grinning. "You had one on the TARDIS, didn't you?"

"Couldn't get rid of the bloody thing," he grumbled. "I swear the TARDIS _liked_ it. It managed to get into my orange marmalade. I don't know how it managed to do that."

"You never, ever put the lid back on properly," Rose pointed out.

He ignored her. "It was an extraordinarily intelligent mouse. It was _strategising_ against me. It ate through one of my scarves. Why would a mouse want to eat a scarf? That isn't _food_. Stupid creature."

"You just said it was extraordinarily intelligent."

"It was smart for a _mouse_. It was nothing next to me," he boasted.

She smiled and stepped closer to him, pressed against his side as they walked. "How'd you get rid of it?"

"It ran out of the TARDIS one day. I don't even remember what planet we were on, except I know it wasn't Earth. As soon as it ran out, I closed the door and the TARDIS and I left."

"Aw. I feel kind of bad for the poor little mouse, stranded on some strange planet."

He looked at her in horror. "_Rose_. I think it used to watch me while I slept."

She grinned. "Maybe it fancied you."

"You're not being serious," he complained.

"Tell you what." She kissed his cheek. "I'll watch you sleep, make sure no evil mouse ever drops by."

"If you're watching me sleep," he pointed out, reasonably, "that means you're not sleeping, and I wouldn't like that. I like sleeping with you. Here we are."

They had arrived at the telescope, but she had to wonder at his ability to say heart-meltingly sweet things at just the opportune moment for her to be unable to appropriately react to them. He dropped her hand and went fiddling about the telescope, humming to himself.

"There…there…there…Ha!" he pronounced, enthusiastically, then reached out his hand for hers. "Come look."

He pulled her over. She pressed her eye into the lens. He looked up at the sky, with his superior vision, and narrated for her, keeping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he spoke, an endless listing of their adventures together. "And that's the one where we…" "And then that was the time we…" "You remember that one, you loved the food…" She smiled as she listened to him. They were spectacular stories, lovely stories, and, in a different mood, she would have been dissolved into laughter over them. But she was listening to him now, and his voice was casting a spell. She felt almost as if she were dreaming, everything seemed so relaxed and comfortable and perfect. She closed her eyes, drifting, dozing even.

"Talk to me in Scottish," she murmured, sleepily.

"In Scottish?" he repeated, bemused.

"Y'know. With your Scottish accent thing that you do. The 'och aye' business."

"Oh, don't try that, Rose. Haven't I told you already?" He kissed the base of her neck, lapsed into the Scottish burr. "Are ye even looking at the stars anymore?"

"Mmm," she admitted. "No."

He dropped the Scottish. "Alright. Time for bed."

She opened her eyes immediately. "Bed? What? But I don't want to go to bed."

"You're falling asleep on your feet. And I'm not carrying you back to the castle."

"But it's nice here," she complained, even as she let him lead her away from the telescope. "And you're not speaking Scottish to me."

"Och, aye," he mocked, grinning over his shoulder at her.

"Can't we just sleep here? Under the stars?"

"With the mouse? Anyhow, I promised I'd show you the bathtub. It's as big as a swimming pool, you know."

"Then that would make it a swimming pool and not a bathtub," she yawned.

The Doctor stopped walking, studied her. "I think I need to wake you up," he decided. He bent his head close to hers, held her eyes with his own, long enough, steadily enough, for Rose's breath to catch and for her to realize she wasn't tired at all but drumming with energy. "Run," he whispered at her.

And they did.

It was quiet. Quiet the way it was only quiet on the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs. He could hear nothing. Well, there was time clicking steadily on, in the distance of his mind, but he never heard that. It was like hearing the sound of your own heartbeat, your own breath. It only happened when something was wrong.

And nothing was wrong.

The Doctor sighed and relaxed into it, the evenness of the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs. Rose was tucked against him, curled into him, which was how she tended to sleep. He kept still, so as not to disturb her, and watched the constellations outside the window, listened to Rose's breaths, to her heartbeat, to the blood throbbing comfortingly at her pulse points. Rose always slept, he thought, as if--if she just held onto him tightly enough--she could keep him here forever. It occurred to him for the first time that he held her hand the same way. Rose Tyler, he thought. You've turned holding hands into an act of desperation on my part.

His hand stroked over her tumbled hair, down her back. She made a sound, a low, long purr of contentment that made him smile. "Are you awake?" he whispered.

She stretched against him and rubbed her head against his chest. "Yes. Sorry for dozing off. I meant to keep watch for any Mice of Doom that might venture our way."

"Don't worry. I've got the sonic screwdriver under the pillow."

There was a moment of silence before she sat up to see him. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Rose." He sighed in exasperation. "You cannot underestimate mice. I made that mistake once before. I will never do it again."

She shook her head at him, smiling fondly, then kissed the tip of his nose. "You're very silly, and very cute."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I'd say I'm _silly_—"

"You're dead silly. But don't worry. I love it about you." The words slipped out before she even thought about them. She didn't think about them.

Until he said, "Do you, though?"

She looked down at him, leaned down, rubbed her nose against his and kissed him, slowly and gently, before sliding back down next to him, head settled on his shoulder.

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. "You said before that I'm not scared of anything."

"You're not."

"You're wrong."

"I am. You're scared of mice."

"I'm not scared of mice. I have proper respect for mice. You, on the other hand, terrify me."

Rose did not say anything for a moment. She could see the stars outside the window from her position against him. She looked at them. "I terrify you?"

"Your mother's right."

He sounded so serious. She had to lighten the mood. "There's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"I can't keep you safe. I try, but I—"

"Nobody's safe, Doctor," she interrupted, firmly.

"You should go home," he said.

She waited a beat. "Do you want me to go home?"

"Don't you want that life? That white-picket-fence life?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, hotly. "Married? A housewife? Barefoot and pregnant? Kids and a dog?"

"You're so young. You'll want it someday." His hand slid to rest over her abdomen. "You'll want to be swollen with child, a baby that moves inside of you, that looks to you for everything. You'll want the children, a little golden-headed boy and a little golden-headed girl, and they'll sit and play on your lawn. And you'll buy them red bicycles for Christmas and hide Easter eggs for them to find in the grass. Don't you want that life, Rose?"

She sniffled suddenly. She didn't. Not really. Not _exactly_ the way he was describing it. But, if he was going to talk about children…Well, that really wasn't fair. How could any woman handle it when the man she loved started talking about children? Yes, she wanted to be swollen with child, but she wanted it to be his child. She wanted him to read complicated Gallifreyan texts out loud to her stomach. She wanted to fight with him over what to name it. And _he_ was the one who bought red bicycles for Christmas.

She shifted, turning and sitting up to look down at him. "You didn't answer my question. Do you want me to go home?"

He looked up at her solemnly. "No. But, oh, Rose, I want you to be happy. Safe. _You're_ the one who's never scared of anything. I've seen the things you do. I've seen the things you do for _me_. If anything were ever to happen to you—"

She laid her finger on her lips. "I'm fine. It's the vernal equinox of the whatever."

"But it isn't always," he pointed out, grimly.

"I don't want that life. The white-picket-fence life. And if I wake up one morning and want it, I'll tell you. And until then, you'll keep me safe and I'll keep you safe. Can't travel through space without a hand to hold, right? So we'd best watch out for each other, yeah?"

He said nothing.

She ruffled his hair to try to get a response. "Agreed?"

He sighed.

She walked her fingers down his chest, down his abdomen…

"Alright, agreed," he said.

She chuckled. "We should get a cat. For the mice."

"I don't like cats," he reminded her.

"But you must like kittens. Everyone likes kittens."

"Kittens are fine but they grow up to be cats."

"I'm going to go buy the TARDIS a kitten," she decided.

"Do you know what I think you're going to do?"

"What?"

He flipped suddenly, trapping her under him, and lapsed into his brogue. "Shall I tell you in Scottish?"

She giggled in delight. "Please do."

Leaning his head down to whisper something wicked in an exaggerated accent into her ear, he paused, catching sight of the imperceptible lightening of the sky. Dawn, he realized. His sense of time nagged at him. The end of the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs.

"Doctor?" said Rose, questioningly.

He tore his eyes away from the dawn, smiled down at her. "Sorry. Where was I? Was I here? I think I was about to say this." He ducked his head and murmured into her ear. Rose shrieked with laughter, her hands possessively in his hair, and he smiled. The Doctor rolled with Rose and turned his back on time.


End file.
